


Play your game

by keysburg



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Completely Unsafe Sex, Enemies to (Enemy) Lovers, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, cracky as hell, does it count as sexual violence if the sex part is consensual but the violent part is not?, ridiculous and I don't even care, the lightest knifeplay and restraint ever, there won't be any cuddling, unlikely and possibly ooc, you have been advised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysburg/pseuds/keysburg
Summary: Jack Thompson has an ill-advised and dangerous hookup with one Dottie Underwood.





	

Jack just wanted a drink. He didn’t care that the first joint he found was dirty, disreputable, and filled with men who’d kill him if he looked at them funny.

That was his first mistake. 

“I thought this evening was doomed to be as dull as dishwater, but lookee here, it’s the blond one!” The voice made his blood run cold. He turned, knowing who was standing there. Her hair was dyed red now and she was wearing cheaper clothes than he would have expected. She looked only a little too pretty for this crowd, which was probably the point. 

“Dottie Underwood. Tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you right now,” he said as she sat down next to him.

“You can try, Agent Thompson, but I doubt you’d survive the attempt. I’m well armed and the clientele here isn’t very fond of the law.”

“How about you cut it out with the ‘agent’ stuff then and I’ll just go back to my drink?” He resisted the urge to remind her his proper title was Chief. She pouted at him.

“I don’t think that would be any fun at all, _Jack_. You know I like my fun. And I owe you one. Last time we saw each other, you knocked me out and fed me to a monster,” she said, a threat growing in her voice.

“You broke my hand with your face, you mean. Even with that and whatever Whitney did, it’s still as beautiful as ever. You’re alive, so I don’t know what you’re all broken up about.” The compliment rolled off his tongue easily, as did the bravado. He wasn’t sure how things would shake out if Dottie wanted to start something, so he went with the tried and true. Flattery and attitude will get you everywhere. 

“You wouldn’t have made Chief if you were easily fooled by appearances, Jack. Still, you’re right. I supposed I did survive and what happened after that was _most_ entertaining. On the other hand, killing you and dumping your body on the SSR’s doorstep would also be delightful.” 

“If you’re bored, I can think of more entertaining things you could do with my body, Underwood.” Did he really just say that? Bravado, indeed. She was laughing at him, which was both insulting and scary.

“Jack, I didn’t know you were funny! I expected you to say something about how Peggy would be sure to avenge your death--unless you think she wouldn’t bother?” she finished innocently. That was her MO, to poke and prod and bait the other person into foolish action. He was sorry to say it had worked on him once. This time, he just looked her in the eyes and waited. “Oh no, you were you serious. Jack, honey, you’re cute and everything, but I’m not usually into men. They don’t take direction very well.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged, turning back to his drink. This was a dangerous game to play, but maybe she’d feel sorry for him and leave him alone. If not, maybe she’d at least let him finish his scotch before she did whatever she was going to do.

“My, aren’t we the confident one?” Dottie mused. Despite her casual tone, her eyes had taken on a sharp focus. “Your suggestion is growing more appealing by the minute. Are you sure you’re up to the challenge?” He took his final swallow before turning to look her dead in the eye again.

“Try me.”

Leaving the bar with her was his second mistake.

This was a terrible idea, maybe the worst he’d ever had. At least whatever happened, he was getting Dottie away from other people. Jack drove recklessly, praying they’d be pulled over by the cops. Luck was not with him tonight. Dottie even insisted on following him to the counter of the cheap but relatively clean hotel. It reminded him of another hotel. He might have survived that bullet to the chest only to die here instead. 

He refused to think that way. He could get the upper hand on Underwood; it was just a matter of waiting for the right opportunity. He couldn’t wait to tease Carter about how he had been the right man for the job. 

It was still and silent in the upper hall as he led her to their room. He put the key in the door, only to feel a sudden stirring of air. He moved his head to the side just in time; Dottie’s fist hit the door. She would have tagged him if he wasn’t already keyed up. Dottie was faster than him, too fast, having pulled her punch and lept back to the other side of the hall before he finished turning around. 

They looked at each other and a slow smile spread across her lips. He reached behind him to open the door before stepping aside.

“After you, Miss Underwood.” She sauntered by him, into the room. God help him, he followed.

Inside, Dottie sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on her hands, studying him. 

“Lose the jacket,” she ordered. “And that shoulder rig.” Jack complied, laying the his coat over the chair in the corner and shrugging out of his holster to lay it on top. Then he studied her like she was studying him. She really was a looker. Her new red locks were less severe than the brown color had been. Dottie had something peachy and shimmery on her lips, which parted as she looked him over. She looked like she was going to eat him alive. Anticipation started to grow low in his belly. It might be worth it. 

“Any other weapons?” He shrugged. “Are you going to make me search you?” she asked.

“If I get to return the favor, why not?” He willed himself to relax as she stood and put her hands on his shoulders. 

“Have it your way. Spread ‘em.” He set his stance just slightly wider, unwilling to unbalance himself in front of her. He raised his arms. Her hands ran down his chest to waistband. He couldn’t help twitching a little when she snapped one of his suspenders. 

“I can think of lots of uses for these,” she said as she worked them loose. 

“Not my thing,” he said. _Not with you anyway._ She pouted but went back to work, running her fingers around the inside of his waistband from belly to spine. Then she pressed against him, warm and soft, as she ran her hands carefully up his back and then along his outstretched arms.

“Ah-ha,” she said, tapping his arm. “What’s this?” He didn’t answer, just letting her move back and strip off his shirt. Her eyes lit up when she saw the sleeve dagger he was wearing. She let him unsnap the sheath and toss it into the pile with his coat and holster. 

“Are we good now?” he asked. 

“Do you often leave jobs half-done, Chief Thompson?” Her hands went for his fly. 

“There’s nothing in there,” he said.

“I hope that’s not true.” His pants dropped to the floor and she palmed his half-hard cock too roughly through his boxers. It still felt good. “Give us a kiss,” she said, leaning in. He dodged her lips, bending his head to her neck instead. He sucked a mark on her neck, right below her ear and tried not to groan as her hand squeezed him in response. He had things to do before they got carried away. 

“My turn,” he said. “Turn around, hands on top of your head.” He shuffled out of his pants, shoes, and socks while she got settled. Watching her hands carefully, he started slipping his hand under her skirt and running it up along the outside of her leg.

Warm flesh encased by stockings rippled under his hand until he reached the gun holster. He followed the strap around to the clip and unfastened it. It went in the pile with his stuff. He repeated the action on her other leg, finding a knife. For good measure he ran both his palms slowly up the inside of her legs, fingers wrapping around the front of her thighs. He found a small vial taped to her thigh, under the cuff of her stocking. 

“I don’t even want to know what this is,” Jack said as he ripped the tape off. It must have hurt but Dottie didn’t flinch. 

He went for the zipper on the back of the dress next, exposing another sheath along her spine. The weapon it held was big enough that he hesitated to call it a knife. It was practically a sword. Her dress pooled around her feet as he examined the rig. It was built right into her brassiere; the undergarment had no fastenings at the back. Jack unsheathed the weapon carefully, dragging just the tip lightly up her back and neck. She inhaled sharply. He wondered for a moment if Dottie might let him hold it to her throat while he fucked her. It would make him feel a bit safer. He decided it wasn’t worth asking. If she let him, it was only because she’d find some way to use it against him.

The knife went in the growing pile and Jack stepped up to press himself against Dottie’s back. He let his hands drift up her thighs and across her belly as he ground his cock slowly against her backside. She arched back into him. He wondered if she was off balance enough for him to sweep her legs out from under her, but then his hands reached the hooks on the front of her undergarment. He unhooked her brassiere and cupped her firm tits. She practically purred when he pinched and twisted her nipples.

“You know how to go down on a girl, Chief Thompson?” she asked, still grinding her ass against him. It wasn’t something he did often, but he certainly knew how. Jack gave her tits a squeeze and then gently shoved her toward the bed. 

“I’ll let you decide. Strip the covers off the bed, and ditch the pillows while you’re at it,” he said. “Everything goes on the floor, out of reach.” She bent over to do as he said, which involved a gratuitous amount of wiggling with her ass in the air. He cupped himself as he watched. When the bed was bare except for the bottom sheet, Dottie peeled off her panties. She left on her stockings and garter belt and sat on the edge of the bed. She gave him a challenging look as she slowly spread her legs. 

“I want to see you on you knees,” she said. He considered it a moment. He almost told her to keep her hands on his head, but he suspected she could still snap his neck that way. 

“Lie down, and put your hands under your ass,” he said. She pouted again but complied, hands sliding under her body. Jack knelt at the bed, sliding his arms under her thighs. Bending at the elbows, he could slide his hands under her back, where he grabbed her wrists. 

“Very clever,” she said, sounding impressed. “Pull.” Jack did as instructed. It forced her back to bend a bit and her legs to slide up his arms even more. Her ass wasn’t quite touching the bed anymore, her weight on his arms and all the leverage his to use. She lay completely open to him, but they’d both feel it if the other tried anything. 

Jack lowered his head and thrust his tongue slowly in and out of her cunt a few times before flicking it slowly up her damp folds. She was pressing up against him as much as she could by the time he reached her clit. 

He licked and sucked, watching and listening to her reactions. He found a rhythm that had her gasping. Then he pulled his head back.

“I hate you,” she spat. He smiled, and bent forward again, but this time he turned his head and sank his teeth into the delicate skin of her inner thigh. He was rewarded with a moan. His lips found their way back to pull at her clit again, and he worked her until gasps were ragged and her nails dug into his wrists. Her voice was hoarse when he paused again. 

“I’m going to kill you,” she said. He pulled her arms tighter in response. The problem with this position was that he couldn’t touch his cock, completely neglected and aching. It was worth it to have her spread before him, however temporarily. He dipped his head again. When Dottie started to shake, he released her altogether before jumping back onto his feet.

She must have felt him tense, because her foot cracked through the air. He turned his head to the side at her movement and her kick just missed his chin. His feet pedaled backward of their own accord and his back bumped against the chair. He reached back to fumble for his firearm, but Dottie wasn’t pressing her attack. 

“You’re quick,” she observed, sitting back up on the bed. They watched each other, neither one moving. Jack got the impression she was playing with him, letting him dodge her strikes. He could shoot her. Hell, he probably should shoot her. Her eyes drifted down his body to where his cock was straining against his boxers. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me be on top,” she asked. If he held her hands again--he pictured her sitting on him until he suffocated. No, he couldn’t risk giving her that much leverage. 

“I think you’ve lost that privilege,” he said. He wanted to pin her down, one hand for her wrists and one around her pretty white throat, under his restraint and under his control. Dottie apparently had other ideas. She just smiled at him wickedly before turning over and arranging herself on her hands and knees. 

“C’mon, Chief,” she taunted, presenting herself to him. “Give it to me good.” 

He reached not for her ass but for her head, intending to slide his fingers into her hair and give him some measure of control. Just before his fingers reached the strands, Dottie turned her head and sank her teeth into his thumb, hard. He yanked it away, taking a couple steps back again. She watched him over her shoulder, unmoving. Jack realized he was panting, his cock throbbing in time with his aching thumb. 

“Down on your elbows,” he said. “Hands clasped together.” Something flashed in her eyes and he tensed, waiting for her to decide she was done playing along. Then the moment passed and she looked away, doing as he asked. It pushed her ass up even higher. 

Jack finally pulled his straining cock from his boxers as he stepped up behind her. He wet the tip by stroking it along her velvet folds, watching her carefully. She didn’t move, so he lined himself up and took her in one swift stroke. She clenched around him and they both groaned. 

Dottie didn’t wait before starting to move her hips against him. He let her, only adding a little roll of his hips each time she pushed back against him. His hands reached forward to squeeze her tits again, fingertips finding them soft and yielding in comparison to the hot silk of Underwood sliding and clenching around his cock. 

Dottie Underwood might be the best lay of his life. She might be the last. 

That thought stoked something in him he hadn’t realized was there. To distract himself, Jack slid one hand down to rub teasing circles over her clit. The other he slid up, wrapping his fingers loosely around her throat. Dottie’s hips started to move faster and he clenched his teeth against the rising pressure. Finally her hips started to stutter and her throat vibrated under this hand with the sounds of her completion. When she just started to relax around him, Jack pulled out and let go, watching his cum splatter over her tight little ass in pulses he felt all the way to his toes.

His third--hundredth?-- mistake that night became apparent when Dottie lunged forward and grabbed the telephone from the nightstand. He saw it coming as she swung it around and rolled with the hit. The edge still caught him behind the ear as he fell, but he kept moving. Adrenaline flooded his body, stealing his opportunity to savor the satisfaction.

He landed on his pants so he scooped them up as he rose. Jack lost precious moments tucking himself back into his boxers. Dottie was on top of him, so he dropped his shoulder and threw an elbow before dodging to the side. She had expected him to head for the hall, not the balcony, and his sideways movement gave him a moment to get the balcony door open. A knife whooshed by his head as he ducked outside. With no time to lose, he dropped his pants over the side before swinging over the edge of the balcony. He let himself hang by the arms for just a moment before dropping. 

He landed in a crouch on the deck one story below, pain running up his legs. Jack grabbed his pants and moved under the balcony, gasping. 

“Running off so soon? I wasn’t done playing!” Dottie’s voice called. The balconies were all connected, so he was able to stay under cover as he ran for the passageway that led to the front parking lot. He dug his keys out of his pocket as he ran. 

His car was parked facing outward just outside the hotel lobby. He heard glass cracking as he exited the building. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Dottie, wearing what looked like his shirt. She was knocking glass out of the window above the entrance with a potted plant. Time to go. He jumped in the car.

A shot fractured his rear windshield as the engine roared to life. More pinged off the body and tail of the car as he stomped on the gas and pulled out into the street.

It was two blocks before he was calm enough to radio in a sighting of Dottie Underwood, armed and dangerous. He sped away towards the SSR office. Safety awaited him but so did a certain amount of harassment. What lie could he possibly tell that explained how Dottie got his service revolver? That would be easier to fib about than why he was turning up barefoot, wearing only his trousers. 

Sousa was going to laugh himself sick, but that was hardly the worse way this night could have ended. He’d tell all the men his story--provided they bought him enough drinks first.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Bon Jovi's "You give love a bad name" because I'm corny as hell. 
> 
> I apologize for the liberties I took with characterization.


End file.
